


waking hour

by Juliana_Homicide



Category: the hobbit (films)
Genre: Again, Kinda, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Post-Bofta, Songfic, everyone lives au, i apologize for everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 12:04:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3248984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juliana_Homicide/pseuds/Juliana_Homicide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loss has always come when Thranduil least expected it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	waking hour

**Author's Note:**

> for elfandbowman on tumblr. any mistakes are my own, any concrit is appreciated, love to Blythe as always.

~>| _Caught between the air and the windless deep_

Loss has always come when Thranduil least expected it. His wife, his friends - gone when he thought he would have them forever. And so when it comes again, defending a rebuilt Laketown from an unusually large an aggressive pack of orcs, a twisted part of his mind tells him that he should have anticipated it.

In the aftermath of the fighting, he searches for his husband in the chaos - he hasn’t seen Bard since the first group of orcs had swept in. It is only on his third (and most desperate) circuit of the town that he spots a dark shape floating in the water.

**_You float like a lily flower._ **

It’s Bard.

**_And you look just like you fell to earth to sleep_ **

The Elvenking starts running.

**_And you’re waiting for your waking hour._ **

~>| _Are you dreaming of a lover who will carry you away_

Thranduil drags Bard out of the water and gathers him in his arms. Bard is breathing, however shallowly, and when the elf gathers him up he sighs and goes limp. A healer - Thranduil must get him to a healer.

**_And keep you from the crying of the crowd?_ **

The throngs of tradesmen part before him, and even though gasps and murmurs, and even cries of grief arise as the people see who the great elf is carrying, no one bars his way. Thranduil looks dangerous now, even more so now than in battle, exuding power and determination in waves around him.

**_No cradle in the rushes, you are broken like the day,_ **

Bard stirs in his arms as he sweeps up the stairs, and Thranduil looks down to see the King of Men staring at him with wide, unfocused eyes. Bard opens his mouth as if to speak, but Thranduil simply presses their lips together to keep him silent. 

“Don’t speak,” he whispers, “I am getting you help.”

**_With darkness all around you like a shroud._ **

~>| _When they finally surrounded you, did any of them face you?_

By the time Thranduil reaches the house that is being used as a hospital of sorts, Bard is unconcious again. He had rasped out a few words before sinking into that inky black, despite Thranduil’s efforts to hush him. He loved him, and please look after the children.

**_Did you curse the silent stars above?_ **

The great Elvenking prays, with everything he has left to give, that the healer’s skill will be enough.

**_Those cruel arms abandoned you for water to embrace you,_ **

And fears with all he has lost that it will not.

**_Won’t you lay your head my waterlily love_ **

~>| _And I swear to God I saw an angel hand attend you_

When they tear open Bard’s already ragged clothing, trying to determine the extent of his injuries, the Bowman does not wake.

**_But that was just the dancing of the light._ **

It quickly becomes clear that the damage is far worse than what was feared - orc blades have gashed Bard’s chest to ribbons, and the wounds ooze a dark and foul liquid. A medic comes to Thranduil to tell him that the Dragonslayer may not make it through the night, and he turns away.

“Keep trying.”

**_No mortal or immortal did deliver or defend you._ **

“I’m sorry, my lord. This - this is beyond our power to heal.”

**_All hands have forsaken you tonight._ **

~>| _Caught between the air and the windless deep_

Bard is given a funeral worthy of any king. He is draped in elven finery and crowned with dwarvish gold, and the people of Dale lay their own gifts beside him before the strongest among them push his burial ship off the dock and into the lake. 

**_You float like a lily flower_ **

The craft is halfway out on the water when, together, Bain, Kili, and Legolas nock their arrows. Fire streaks the sky, and soon flames are licking up the sides of the boat.

**_And you look just like you fell to earth to sleep_ **

When it begins to sink, Thranduil turns and walks slowly and silently away from the lake.

**_And you’re waiting for your waking hour_ **

The Elvenking does not return to the halls of Men.

**_And you’re waiting for your waking hour._ **

~>|


End file.
